


Just like Good Old Times

by Tory_Fleck13



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Dante is impatient, Dry Humping, M/M, POV Third Person, Post DMC 5, Post Game, Sibling Incest, Smut, They just missed each other so much, Touch starved Vergil, but still Vergil after all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 14:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18471247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tory_Fleck13/pseuds/Tory_Fleck13
Summary: The absence of their swords and unusual submission leads to this kind of encounter.His inner walls, already half melted, turns what is supposed to be a fraternal embrace into something else, as expected.It’s so unnerving and wrong, so them.--Post Devil May Cry 5.





	Just like Good Old Times

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic in both, DMC fandom and English language. I never had the confidence to actually publish a story in my second language but here I am, I couldn't help it. I just love these two so much and the fifth game left me with many feelings so... here. I apologize if there's any mistakes. I'll return to correct if necessary. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it and thanks for reading.

* * *

Hesitant arms, quick pants, an _irrepressible act_.

The slight purr of acceptance from Yamato’s blade against this presentable new Devil sword is the last sound they both hear, right before Dante’s drops his weapon to use his own fists.

Vergil is just as quick. He prepares himself to block an attack that never comes, at least not in the conventional violent knocks he’s been dealing since they were five. The kind of attack with intention of wanting the air out of his lungs to spill blood.

No, this attack is different enough to catch him out of guard and jolt the astonishment.

Dante unwraps one of his fits to yank Yamato away from him, just to grab a hold around his waist without getting stabbed in the process. Vergil almost gasps as he realizes the true intentions of his little brother, who just starts to press his lips over the paralyzed pulse of his.

Not a single drop of blood is shed. _For now._

Their weapons are on the ground thanks to Dante, aligned side by side. The glow of the blades barely reflects their mixed figures in the front drop of hellish atmospheres; two different slices of a whole.

Their deadly hands are holding each other.

In normal circumstances, he would retract from the touch and pretend nothing happened but- the truth is he doesn’t feel like _he wants to_ , like he should let his pride take command. The subtly shivers that runs down his back are alerting and the abrupt warmth on his lower regions start to be noticeable and still, he doesn’t want to let Dante go.

_This_.

Let his humanity shape his current actions… _this_ is how it feels?

It must be.

His primal desires are alive. He can sense them, awake and real, scorching his blood in such an animal but familiar rush. All thanks to no one else than his little brother. The only capable to truly disarm him with an impulsive and anxious embrace, so characteristic of Dante’s overwhelming personality.

_How long has it been?_

How long has it been to allow himself to be ravenous and drawn like he doesn’t need anything - _anyone_ \- else? So long, the road has been so long… but he can finally have Dante without the external call of power.

The absence of their swords and unusual submission leads to this kind of encounter. His inner walls, already half melted, turns what is supposed to be a fraternal embrace into something _else_ , as expected. It’s so unnerving and wrong, so **them**.

_Curious._

He has longed for Dante.

_So curious._

He’s longing for his little brother. His presence, his crux, his touch. _All_ of him, a slow realization. To breathe in the same closed space and feel those insistent lip edges against pale and uneasy skin, it makes Vergil whisper in eager wondering, ready to value his picture-perfect of himself. 

“Dante…”

_Foolishness._

**.**

* * *

 

He can’t help the moan that escapes his mouth nor the pleasure that buries deep in his skin when he listens the satisfying way of Vergil’s call to him, _it feels just right_ , like fire and ice being consumed by an uncommon but mutual agreement.

Dante’s veins are cooling in the most pleasing of ways. It’s like Vergil finds his way back at him.

He is surprised by that. The oddly way his brother returns the hug and leans his forehead against his. Composed and precise, with hands rubbing the right part of his back while the other grips his silver hair like something holy. A mere act of commitment. Vergil’s hands starts to _burn_.

“God dammit…” Dante rasps impatiently.

Familiar eyes like icy blue are watching him without blinking and Dante doesn’t miss the slight smile on his brother commissures. The bastard is enjoying it and his eyes are the plain proof. That look identical to his, like mirrors hidden in the sea of regret and raw yearning, so silent, yet so present with naked sincerity. A look like that should be _forbidden_ , he’s sure.

After so many years of enduring the emptiness caused by a missing piece and a hollow heart, Dante knows it better.

_Vergil._

He wants to say it out loud to see his brother’s reaction, but the unexpected hands clasping desperately at his hips are distracting, and the heaviness in his chest increase when his older brother tests his balance. Dante lets it happen, and soon he’s starting to bear the heavier body on top of him.   

He hates to admit, but he’s _tired_ of battling Vergil.

They’ve been fighting each other besides demons three days in a row without rest, overlooking the limitations of their hybrid heritage and abusing their quick healing and devil triggers. The hell’s ground feels as comfortable as the sheets of his bed at Devil May Cry by now.

_This isn’t half bad._

The air becomes thick. He can feel the tempered breath of Vergil right on his ear, _so close_ to quivering. Dante starts to move his own hands to rest them on his twin’s dimples and he searches again for those disarming eyes. Vergil seems reluctant, but ends by granting them to him nevertheless.

He seems to be as tired as Dante even if his energizing hands become bruising and possessive. His little brother wouldn’t want him any other possible way. _Is there even another one?_ He doesn’t think so.

Words remain unspoken as they study themselves. Dante wants to say something trivial and out of place so badly, but this honest touching, this starving and silent petition from Vergil is too much, too flawless, is he dreaming? The fact that his older brother is so quiet and receptive as much as giving is so _striking._

**.**

* * *

 

He contemplates Dante in distinguishing muteness until he sees how his mouth hangs open in that acquainted way he opens it to say _the first dull thing his mind can come up to_ , ready to break the peaceful rhythm of their intimacy. And that’s something Vergil’s not ready to give up. Much less to his chatterbox of a brother.

“ _Don’t._ ” He warns by putting his right hand over Dante’s lips.

The answer he receives is a soft laugh and the tip of a tongue emerging to rest on his fingers, it runs up and down with a promise of a new fight. The wetness sends another amount of excitement, right on Vergil’s crotch.

Dante opens his lips again, his respiration feels hot on his palm, and the statement is a challenge liquefied in the hoarse intonation of a shared lust.

“ _Make me_.”

Dante notices the vehement response in the running shiver through his whole frame. _Of course he does_. After all, the eldest twin is glad to feel the exact same reaction from his brother’s body. It makes him grant a pleasant smile, short and genuine.

“As you wish.”

His reply is approved with a laugh, quickly suppressed by a moan caused by Vergil’s rocking hips against Dante’s.

Their arousals start to hurt inside the leather pants, and the older brother finds it amusing. Oh, he’s really longed for this, hasn’t he? He can tell by his moves, determined and sharp. For a moment, he wants to rip Dante’s clothes to actually claim him and feel him wrapped around his cock, just like all those times they used to copulate until they were satisfied, back there on his youngest days. Before all the catastrophe started.

But he manages to contain himself. He doesn’t want to take his brother in hell. A place where they’re vulnerable while being distracted. He may be hungry for Dante, but he’s not that lost, yet. He’s starving, but he really wants to give Dante something superior.

No matter how of an airhead his brother is, he deserves better.

In addition, with Dante’s trembling whimpers only by the mere action of clothed masturbation helps him to agree that, yes, he very much prefers his brother moaning his name than ruining the whole moment with that vast mouth.  

“Shit, Verge, please… I-"

“Silence, brother. Do you want me to indulge you?”

Vergil says with a calmer voice than expected.

He takes his time with Dante, who converts to the agonizing undertaking of his brother, like he fully trust in him when it’s not the case. Vergil doesn’t mind, as long as he can see the desperation impregnated on those breathtaking dilated eyes on the verge of crying because of him and his painful ministrations.

He wonders then, can Dante come just like this?

The pure art of over stimulating his clothed erection. His tongue travels his lips in expectation and bites the inside of his cheek, willing to try.

**.**

* * *

 

“My apologies little brother, I won’t be able to fulfill your wishes for now,” words his twin.

Their hips hasn’t ceased to move and is getting hard to think when Vergil stares at him so intensely. Dante’s choppy exhalation comes out as he asks. “What… wha-t are yo-u saying?”

“I won’t take you here.”

Before Dante can protest or demand a reason, his brother changes their position. He feels the clear pull up by his waist to accommodate himself right on Vergil’s lap.

With this new angle, the pressure of their erections makes him cry out. It’s so _much easy_ to touch and feel the hardening pace of wanting, of mutual consummation. Vergil has said that he’s not going to fuck him, then why-?

“Fu-fuck!” He yells when a certain approach of his cock brushes right on the zipper and _god_ , it aches but feels good, and he knows his brother cock has caused that.

Vergil gleefully laughs at his reaction as he starts to move them, alluding Dante to start his part as well.

“Vergil you-asshole!”      

“I’m not going to negligent on you anymore, brother. Mark my words.” Pledges his twin like he’s meaning it, ignoring his useless attempts to pretend that he’s not enjoying it.

He feels trapped between pain and desire, so unified that is tough to realize which of those makes him groan like a bitch in heat, probably both.

Vergil is a freaking sadist after all. The bastard is looking at him like he’s about to eat him out, driving him insane with a series of stupid cock frictions. As if they are two heated and scared teens to actually _go_ for it.

The dumbest part of all is that Dante **loves** this with every tortuous and painful second of his life. After so many years, he can’t help it.

His cock, stocked in his leather pants, is boiling, but that doesn’t mean he’s not appreciating how Vergil’s own clothed dick is doing marvels. It’s a bit embarrassing and pathetic, yet he clings hard with his hands firmly wrapped around that beautifully pale neck, trying to think a good insult for his asshole of a brother.  

He obviously fails.

**.**

* * *

 

Dante is staring at his mouth like he’s a thirsty mortal. The more he tries to stop gazing, the more he wants him as they keep going on riding each other. He’s not subsequent at pretending he’s not delighted with Vergil’s attention. So, as the good older brother, he decides to imitate the suggestive glares.

The dilemma dowries from there, and the more he concentrates his eyes on his brother, the more he wants to kiss him, an urgent wish, product of abstinent years and torture, far away from his only consort. There won’t be a turning point to resist his twin if he does. And he feels so indulgent and lost in the human sensations that he feels in the mood to do so. That’s what their courting game of push and pull has always done to them. Like a painkiller, it intoxicates to the hilt of satisfaction.

His left hand alights on Dante’s beard, his touch produces a lovely mumbling.

Dante has fire on his eyes, its brightness say he’s ready.  

_Little brother._

He bites inside his cheek once again, ready to provide the final reason to Dante’s hesitation of giving in and, among that submission comes Vergil’s one, altogether, just like his lips are about to.

He gives to Dante one last look before closing the gap, the shaky sigh of those are permission enough. 

_How much I’ve missed you._

Their mouths find each other’s and discover, with great fulfilment, that they still fit perfectly.

**.**

* * *

 

They groan and snarl, but none of them attempt something to silence the other. Dante welcomes the roughness on his brother’s lips and he’s quick to heat them up with the little help of his teeth and everlasting hunger, just to find out that his twin’s mouth is already full of blood.

The yelp is inevitable.

He missed all of this so fucking much... and that’s why he takes and **takes** , and licks madly with his tongue, searching the sweet iron while chasing his furious orgasm. Vergil doesn’t restrain and he also takes all he wants from him, be it blood, bites or kisses.

Dante doesn’t know anymore who’s moaning louder but acknowledges that he’s the one riding out Vergil at such inhumane pace, rubbing at the exact places, even if it hurts so much and his dick is about to explode, his vision going white forces him to separate momently and his twin takes it to his advantage to hold their gazes locked as he thrusts his packaged bulk on his and _fuck, it’s right there_ , his balls are full and damn ready to let all of himself go around the synthetic cloth.

Unbelievable. He’s about to come by dry humping his brother.

“Vergil! I’m-I’m…”

Vergil kisses him hard and welcoming, as if he knows what’s about to happen. Dante sinks in shuddering dark pleasure, pauses the kiss and makes an obscene sound out of it, with the blood visible on the left corner of his mouth as his lunges slow down.

“It’s alright. Come for me, **Dante**.” Vergil claims, panting his name like a litany, like a poem.

That’s all it takes Dante to cum brutally inside his pants as his brother slides his teeth right on his collarbone to draw more blood, earning a scream from the younger twin. He can feel Vergil’s cum through his pants, their spent are probably mixing and Dante finds _that so hot_.

They keep the same position, time passes until the force of their orgasm leaves leisurely. His tongue tastes of salty blood and lingering mud because their faces are wrenched with sweat of days. He chuckles at that because if he tells Vergil, he would probably get mad.

_Filthiest sex we ever had._

The youngest of the siblings snickers again, and instead of rage his twin, he decides to act lively about _other things_.

“Just like good old times, right Verge?”

Dante says amused and dizzy, posing his lips at the level of Vergil’s ear.

“Don’t talk, Dante. Your beard is scratching." The other responds with a trivial hint of irritation. His face doesn’t leave his collarbone.

“Oh really? It seemed like you didn’t care before.” Dante responds, making a show of stealing another kiss from his brother.

“Enough is enough.” Vergil declares before standing and leave Dante on the ground, alone.

“Oh c’mon. We can go for another round ya' know.”

Vergil shoots him a cold glare and Dante knows his lustful mood has been replaced for his brother maniacs’ ways of pointless cleaning.

“We need an urgent bath.”

“ _Oh_. Do you want me to remind you who was the one with the brilliant idea of keeping the party inside our pants?”

Dante defends as he stands and feels the unpleasant feeling of cold seed running down his legs.

He doesn’t hear an answer but he catches his devil sword right in time. When he turns, he finds his brother holding Yamato, ready to fight again.

Dante thinks Vergil will be the same asshole of always until he listens his statement.

“If _I win_ , we get a bath and a second round.”

There’s even a bit of playfulness in his brother’s voice and he laughs at that. Seriously, he’s living one of the best times of his life, together with Vergil. At this passing, he’ll never want to leave hell.

“Fine, but if _I win_ we get another round after the battle.”

“Deal.”

Dante licks his lips, savoring what's left of his brother's blood as he seals their conditions of an encouraging combat.

“Deal.”


End file.
